


What It Takes

by Raine_Wynd



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Brothers, Chuck Lives, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Gen, Hansen Family Feels, Jaeger Pilots, Near Death Experiences, Scott is not a rapist, Swearing, background Chuck/Raleigh, warning for foul language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 05:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5444426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raine_Wynd/pseuds/Raine_Wynd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Scott, your brother needs you in Hong Kong. Tendo’s emailing you a ticket – economy, sorry, but we can’t spare a jumphawk right now – so if you’re not coming, call me back ASAP and we’ll go with plan B.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	What It Takes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SublimeDiscordance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SublimeDiscordance/gifts).



> Thanks to Jocelyn for the beta!

_January 2025_

_“Scott, your brother needs you in Hong Kong. Tendo’s emailing you a ticket – economy, sorry, but we can’t spare a jumphawk right now – so if you’re not coming, call me back ASAP and we’ll go with plan B.”_

The voice only sounded vaguely familiar, the number unlisted, but considering there was only five people who were likely to call his cell, Scott believed the request was real. He considered it a measure of how rattled his caller was when the first message was immediately followed up with a second that identified the caller as Raleigh and gave him a callback number. Scott wasn’t sure he was ready to believe that Raleigh Becket, currently being hailed as a savior of the world, had called him personally. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, though, if the PPDC was as short-staffed as Herc and Chuck had implied it was now that the UN had chosen to shut everything down.

For a moment, Scott hesitated. What could he possibly do if he went? Then he caught sight of the photo he kept of his brother and his nephew, taken just after they’d been awarded Striker Eureka. _I don’t want him to die, Scotty,_ Herc had confided, _but I think of someone else piloting with him, and I get all torn up. If I don’t pilot with him, I still might have to order him out there to face the kaiju, and what kind of father will that make me then?_

Scott closed his eyes briefly at the memory. _If Chuck’s dead, Herc‘s going to be a mess,_ he thought _. If I’m not there, he’s going to put me off with all the shit he’ll say instead of grieving. That won’t end well, and it was bad enough when we realized I couldn’t pilot anymore. I don’t need my brother trying tell me it’s fine that his son died a fucking hero; that shit’s never been **fine** even if we knew it was a possibility._

Plus, if it was really Raleigh Becket, who’d left the PPDC rather than pilot again but had come back anyway, who was Scott to refuse a request? The least he could do was show up; the ticket was probably non-refundable, especially if it had been purchased at the last minute.

With a deep sigh, Scott called his boss and hastily arranged to be off work for the next two weeks. The ticket he’d been emailed had only given him the barest minimum of time to get to the airport, but the email had also reminded him that his PPDC-issued passport was still valid, allowing him to use it as both an emergency visa and passport. The flight was long enough to remind him that he’d forgotten what it was like to travel commercial in steerage. His passport, with its special stamp, drew a hard stare and crosscheck from Immigration before being accepted.

From inside the taxi, Scott stared at the gates of the Hong Kong Shatterdome. He took a deep breath, paid the driver, and, with a firm hand on his oversized duffel bag, exited the cab. Scott held no illusions about his status with the PPDC. He was the ex-jaeger pilot who’d been deemed not well enough to fight in Operation Pitfall, thanks to the damage he’d sustained in Lucky Seven’s last battle. Given what he’d heard of the attack on the Breach – humanity’s last two jaegers blown up, Stacker Pentecost confirmed dead, Chuck’s status likely the same – Scott figured he was here to help his brother deal with the funeral.

Scott knew what losing a Drift partner felt like. He’d spent the last six years dealing with it, learning how to manage his emotions when it felt like he’d left half of himself in his brother – the good half, the part that was strong and capable and not fucked up with anxieties about piloting and living as an ex-jaeger pilot. He missed being able to step into Herc’s head, but was grateful that his brother was still alive. He knew that if Chuck was dead, Herc would have survivor’s guilt up the wazoo, not to mention all the echoes of having Drifted with Chuck for so long and over the course of so many battles.

The gate guard eyed him warily as he stepped up, clearly not prepared for his arrival. Scott wasn’t surprised he wasn’t instantly recognized, dressed as he was in a tan rain jacket, black cap, jeans, and black boots, but he thought the scar that marred his left ear and left cheek denoted him as unmistakable as few others. The gate guard addressed Scott in Cantonese and Mandarin before trying English. “Can I help you, sir?”

Stepping closer so the guard could see him in better light, Scott pulled off the black cap he was wearing, revealing his red hair. “I’m Scott Hansen. Let me see my brother, please.”

“One moment,” the guard said, and hastily picked up his phone.

Scott crossed his arms and waited patiently. Within minutes, another guard arrived to escort him into the facility. The Shatterdome was surprisingly full of activity, Scott noticed, as if the closure of the Breach hadn’t stopped the Pan Pacific Defense Corps from continuing its mission. Scott frowned briefly at that, wondering what the activity signified. He decided he’d ask later.

“This way, sir,” the guard said, after Scott had signed the guest register in the lobby and been issued a temporary badge.

Shouldering his bag, Scott followed the guard deeper into the Shatterdome, through the maze of hallways that invoked memories with every step. Scott remembered the months he and Herc had spent here in the early days of the Kaiju War, back when they thought it would only be a short affair. After being shown to a set of quarters, where he was able to drop off his duffel bag and use the facilities, the guard led Scott further into the ‘dome. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised to be led to a conference room near the ‘dome’s medical clinic.

Looking like he hadn’t slept in years but glowing with satisfaction, Raleigh Becket rose at his entrance, thanked the guard, and hugged Scott with the same enthusiasm and joy Scott remembered from their three-jaeger drop in Manila. Something in Scott eased to receive such a welcome. He hadn’t expected Raleigh to be that effusive, but maybe it was just relief that Scott was here.

“I see you got my message,” Raleigh said, grinning briefly. “I take it you didn’t bother calling me back because you were focused on just getting here?”

Scott nodded. “So Herc doesn’t know I’m here, then.”

Raleigh shook his head. “Not yet, but he’s been refusing to lean on us, so maybe with you here, he’ll get the rest he needs before he winds up in the bed next to Chuck.”

Scott’s eyes widened. “I thought my nephew was dead.”

“Not yet,” Raleigh said. “LOCCENT got a signal from one of Striker’s escape pods about six hours after the choppers picked Mako and me up. Chuck’s unconscious and he broke his left arm, but the pod held against the radiation. The blast shock wave blew him off course from where the spotters thought he’d be. He’s been in ICU since, and Herc’s been fighting us on trying to get him to leave and get some rest. Herc broke his shoulder earlier this week; he’s supposed to be resting, too.

“When I called you, I thought –” Raleigh took a deep breath “– I thought we’d need you for the funeral. Didn’t seem right that you weren’t here in the first place, not if we needed every pilot we had. I mean, if you were discharged because you were doing stupid shit like everyone said, it seemed like a waste of a perfectly healthy jaeger pilot.” He smiled deprecatingly as his hands underscored his words. “Stacker told me all of the Mark-3 jaeger pilots were dead, which was why he was willing to risk me. Wasn’t until after our first Drift that I knew from Mako that you were alive, just not eligible to pilot. Which seems weird to me if you were discharged for gambling and drinking.”

Scott met the younger man’s eyes, marveling – as he’d had since the story had broken that Raleigh Becket had come back to pilot Gipsy Danger again – that someone could be that resilient. “I lost my nerve,” he confessed. “Last fight we had in Lucky Seven, the harness broke and nearly killed me. Busted up my ribs, cracked a vertebrae, fractured my ankle, cut open my cheek and ripped off part of my ear. The docs fixed me up but I couldn’t get back in a conn-pod after that. Not without having a panic attack. I…” He looked at Raleigh and saw compassion on his face. “They tried. Put me on a bunch of meds and had me half-drugged out of reality and stuck me in a conn-pod. Herc started throwing up; he couldn’t focus. Said he’d rather pilot with anyone else if they were going to drug me into being just a warm body in the jaeger.”

Raleigh nodded in understanding. “I told Pentecost I couldn’t imagine having anyone else in my head again. I was wrong.” Raleigh crossed the room to the mini-fridge that sat near the door and pulled out a water bottle, tossing it to Scott. “I just couldn’t imagine you sitting in Sydney, wondering if you should be here to support your brother. You know us little brothers have to stick together.”

“Is that why you called me?” Scott demanded.

Raleigh shrugged. “Do you need a better reason than that?”

Scott considered. “No, not really. But if you’d told me that was your reason, I might not have come.”

Raleigh looked at him incredulously. “Well, that’s stupid. How would you being in Sydney worrying long-distance been easier than being here where you could actually maybe make a difference?”

Scott grinned sheepishly. “Some days I wonder if I have what it takes to do that,” he said as Raleigh handed him a water bottle. “I fucked up being a jaeger pilot, so all those voices in my head get to me some days.”

Raleigh studied him a moment. “What made you change your mind?”

“Your second voicemail,” Scott replied honestly. “The first one made me wonder who would call me, and when you said you were the one to call me…. You came back and kicked ass, and I know it couldn’t have been easy to come back at all.”

Raleigh nodded acknowledgement. “It wasn’t,” he agreed, and didn’t elaborate. Scott could see there was more to the story than the version he’d heard through the media, but that explanation, he thought, could wait.

“Can I see Herc?”

“Think you could find your way through the ‘dome without help?” Raleigh asked.

“Maybe. My mental map of it is fuzzy. Has it changed at all?” Scott asked, and drank about a quarter of the water bottle.

“Not that I can tell.” Raleigh grinned. “But for formality’s sake, I’ll be your escort.”

Scott finished the bottle of water before he nodded. “Lead on. Where’s your copilot?”

“Working on restoring another jaeger, just in case. None of us will breathe easy just yet.” Raleigh shuddered. “But we’re all praying we won’t need it.”

Scott nodded grimly. The years he’d spent as Herc’s copilot meant he was very aware of the PPDC’s stance on assuming the kaiju wouldn’t be back; they’d made that mistake once. Blowing up the Breach sounded like they’d succeeded, but he was enough of an ex-jaeger pilot to understand success was just as long as the last kaiju killed.

The conference room Raleigh and Scott had used was only down the hall from ICU. Raleigh knocked on the doorway leading into the ICU room, startling Herc, who sat vigil next to his son. From the paperwork and tablet on the rolling desk next to Herc, Scott surmised his brother was trying to stay on top of everything in his new position as marshal.

“Hey, I brought you a visitor,” Raleigh said brightly.

Herc’s eyes narrowed. “You did what?” he asked, but then he saw Scott. Relief flashed across Herc’s face, and for a moment, the long-dead ghost Drift between them flared with awareness. In that instant, Scott felt the pain and regret his brother was trying to hide.

“Damn it, Herc, you should be resting, not trying to manage everything,” Scott scolded, taking in the sling his brother’s arm rested in, the unmistakable lines of pain in Herc’s face. “Didn’t you promise me you weren’t going to do Stacker’s job for him?”

“You offering?” Herc asked, but Scott had known him too long not to hear the relief underlying the teasing. Herc turned to Raleigh to mask that relief. “Damn it, Raleigh, I thought I told you not to bother him.”

“Did you?” Raleigh asked innocently. “You also promised Mako, Tendo, and me that you were going to your quarters and rest. Maybe with Scott here, you can. World can wait for a few hours; they’ve already heard the big news. Besides, you’ve given Victor in PR enough to fill the airwaves.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a mother hen?” Herc asked, but he looked at Scott. “You sure you’re up to this?”

“Do I need to get a doctor to make sure you don’t fuck up that shoulder any worse?” Scott returned. “Go, shoo. Whoever’s taking care of Max probably doesn’t need a bulldog underfoot.”

Herc hesitated, clearly torn.

“Has you sitting here changed anything about his condition?” Scott demanded. “And wouldn’t be just like him to wake up when you’re not around?”

Herc barked a laugh at that. “Yeah, it would. Make sure you tell him the Breach is closed if he does? And the docs think he didn’t terminate the Drift; that’s why he’s unconscious. They’re worried about him thinking he’s dead.”

“Hey,” Scott softly. “I got this, bro. You go take it easy, take some painkillers. Maybe if you’re not screaming in pain across the Drift, he’ll wake up more.”

“But I have –“

“– a Shatterdome full of people willing to do their jobs,” Raleigh cut off. “Tendo’s already brought in more crew to help with ops and the press. Cherno Alpha’s crew has volunteered to stick around and help with cleanup and repairs; they told Mako and me that they have nothing to go back to. Nothing needs to be done tonight that you need to worry about, and as you so famously told me, the suits and ties can go fuck off. We saved the world.”

Herc looked at Raleigh. “Next time you pretend to be a dumb blond from Alaska, I’m going to remember this,” he said.

“And?” Raleigh shrugged, not cowed. “If it was me in your shoes, you’d tell me the same, I’m sure.”

Caught by that, Herc surrendered. With his good arm, Herc hugged his brother, then headed out, taking with him the tablet and paperwork. Raleigh grinned fiendishly as he followed Herc out, clearly determined to make sure Herc didn’t detour along the way to his quarters.

Alone except for the beeping of the monitors, Scott got his first good look at his nephew since before Mutavore had hit. With the kaiju coming so frequently, it had been over a month since Scott had seen Chuck outside of a TV interview. Chuck’s left arm looked as though it had been set and cast in the high-tech cast the PPDC preferred to use to speed healing; his body bore bruises, and he sported a healing cut on his cheek. Scott slid into the seat his brother had vacated and gripped Chuck’s right hand briefly.

“Hey, kiddo, I’m here. Your dad will kill me if you wake up while he’s gone, but you’d do it anyway just to be contrary, won’t you?”

No response met his words, but he’d expected nothing less.

He carried on talking, just in case Chuck could hear him. “So let me tell you, Sydney is going crazy. Whole world’s been celebrating for the last two days. You’re gonna have to wake up if you’re going to enjoy it, Charlie; you always said you had to prove being in a jaeger so young was going to be fucking worth it. Think you did just that. You gonna tell me what you think about Raleigh Becket? Had to stick in your craw, didn’t it? You were scared Pentecost was going to put me in a jaeger. I believe the words were ‘no useless has-been jaeger pilot’s going to back me up on any mission.’ I still don’t know if Herc was going to deck you for that, but I can tell you, it was pretty close, kid. You always could get under his skin in no time flat.”

Scott talked about nothing, hoping that his voice alone would help. Being in a constant Drift with someone meant that it was easy to rely on it for a thousand things left unvoiced. It hadn’t escaped Scott’s notice how his brother and his nephew spoke in looks and half-formed sentences, especially as time had gone on. Scott had also noticed how Herc had tried to rein in Chuck, who’d grown into a supremely confident, talented, and competent man who didn’t need or want his father’s permission or approval to say or do what he wanted and damn the consequences.

It had been different when Chuck was under the age of eighteen – but Chuck was twenty-one now and a battle-hardened soldier. Chuck knew that for every moment he spent in the conn-pod, Herc spent just as many, and twice more running around being Stacker’s chosen 2IC, chasing after funding and approval from the PPDC Council and a dozen more administrative tasks that Chuck himself scorned. Chuck had never wanted to stand in his father’s shadow, but he also never wanted to take on the things his father did, seeing them as wastes of time and energy.

Scott understood his nephew’s perspective that killing kaiju was the only thing that mattered, but he knew who would have the worst trouble adjusting to this new life with no kaiju. Herc had always looked towards the future; hell, he’d been poised to retire from the Air Force when the kaiju hit Sydney the first time. Scott, who’d still had a year of military service left, was supposed to have joined him a year later; instead, they’d stolen a helicopter and saved a handful of children, including Chuck, and traded a court martial for the PPDC.

Back then, Herc and Scott had been poised to run a motorcycle repair shop; they’d had the funds all lined up, the location scouted out, the business plan firmly in place. The shop they’d been set to buy had been wiped out in the attack. Getting the bank to allow them to cancel the loan with little penalty had seemed like a hellacious chore before they’d found they could turn that over to the PPDC’s legal team.

“Hard to believe this is where we are now,” Scott murmured as Raleigh slipped into the room nearly two hours later. Turning to Raleigh, he asked, “So how’d the kid take your arrival?”

“About what I’d expected, given what I’d seen of him,” Raleigh replied diplomatically. “Wasn’t until after the battle in Victoria Harbour that he warmed up to me. I got Herc to take some painkillers and he’s sleeping, finally. Max is conked out next to him and competing for who snores the loudest.”

Scott barked a laugh at that. “Yeah, I used to wear earplugs for that reason.”

Raleigh smiled. “I can see why. You interested in dinner?”

“Yeah. I had what they called food on the plane, but that was hours ago.” Scott rose, stretching and wincing slightly as his joints reminded him he wasn’t used to sitting so long. “You be good, kid; I’ll be back.”

Scott followed Raleigh out to the mess hall, where they were joined by Mako. “Evening, Mr. Hansen,” she greeted. “I am glad that you are here.”

“Call me Scott; it’ll get confusing enough with three Hansens here. Congratulations on shutting the bastards down.”

Mako inclined her head, indicating Raleigh. “I didn’t pull that last switch; Raleigh did.”

“Couldn’t have done it if you hadn’t rebuilt my girl and piloted with me,” Raleigh reminded her. “I should tell you, Scott, that we’ve given you VIP guest access; only place you can’t go without an escort is the jaeger bay and the K-science lab.”

“Probably the only places I don’t want to go,” Scott replied honestly as he grabbed a tray. “I never liked the lab. The smells always made me gag. Seeing the jaeger bay empty…I think it would be creepy.”

“It is,” Mako agreed. “But not for long, we hope. Did you want a tablet to use for reading or watching movies while you’re here? I can set you up if you like.”

“That would be great. My cell phone plan’s expensive enough without adding extra charges for international data access. Besides, I’m pretty sure Chuck’s heard all of my stories by now.” He handed his tray over to the server, who filled it with the main mystery meat entrée, his choice of vegetable, and his choice of dessert. When they sat down to eat, Scott saw that the ubiquitous communal plate of potatoes that had anchored every Shatterdome meal as far as Scott could remember was still a staple.

“So what are you two going to do without a jaeger to pilot?” Scott asked as he dug into his meal. Shatterdome food was never going to win gourmet awards, but it was designed to be filling, calorie-heavy, and for people who were, in general, burning a lot of calories just in the course of doing their jobs. As such, Scott was aware he couldn’t eat like that anymore, and so was careful not to eat everything he’d been served.

“A number of the countries who’d been stiffed by the UN Council are rushing to pledge us funds for emergency preparedness and reconstruction,” Mako said. “Many want a jaeger to help with cleanup and some are calling for a jaeger to tear down the Wall of Life.”

“Did you believe it would hold?” Scott asked Raleigh.

“Sure,” Raleigh drawled, “but only the parts I worked on, so that left, what, miles and miles that were suspect?”

Scott stared at Raleigh, stunned. “You…you worked on that damned thing?”

Unashamed, Raleigh shrugged. “Sure. Nobody else would hire a ghost-Drifting ex-jaeger pilot, and I had to eat somehow. I may be from Alaska, but I’m a city boy. Never learned to hunt or fish or do any of that shit.”

Scott’s eyes widened. “Are you telling me the whole story of Raleigh Becket, the true Alaskan native, is a whole fucking piece of PPDC PR bullshit?”

“Well, it sure sounds a hell of lot better than ‘high school dropout who would’ve flunked anyway.’ One too many fights, one too many C’s that were really D’s but the teachers liked us…” Raleigh let his voice drift off. “C’mon, Scott, I can’t believe you bought that fiction. Especially with the way they tried to rewrite you. I never believed that shit about you gambling and drinking too much. Knew it had to be something worse that they wanted to hide, especially after the shit they tried to get me to sign off on when my brother died.”

Scott sighed and met Raleigh’s eyes. “They told me that if I agreed to that, they wouldn’t tell the world I’d been injured by a faulty harness. Your brother didn’t disagree when I asked him about your bios.”

Raleigh grinned briefly. “Yancy said later that he thought you’d catch on that he was pulling your leg, but you didn’t.”

Scott shook his head. “Herc’s always said I’m the one who takes people at face value and shouldn’t, especially after all that’s happened. I just…don’t want to be that cynical.” He eyed Raleigh. “And you’re dodging the question.”

Raleigh smiled. “Some things I can’t tell you until I get permission from the marshal,” he replied honestly. “Which reminds me, Mako – would you remind me to ask Herc tomorrow?”

Mako pulled out her phone and quickly typed a reminder email, which she promptly sent to Raleigh.

Scott looked at Raleigh. “You couldn’t do that yourself?”

“Staring at a screen tends to give me migraines now, and the smaller it is, the more I have to focus, which is just a recipe for disaster. Neural damage from the last mission.”

Mako shot him a look, which told Scott that Raleigh was underplaying his injury. Scott vaguely remembered something about Raleigh being one of only two people to ever pilot solo, and immediately wondered if he’d done it again. He rewound the conversation and realized the answer was a highly probable yes. Admiration and respect for Raleigh surged through him.

Ignoring Mako and before Scott could ask the question that filled his mind, Raleigh changed the subject. “So what have you been doing?”

“I’m a mechanic at a small automotive repair shop in West Sydney,” Scott said. “It’s not much, but it’s honest work, and the owner has no love for paparazzi – he was in a car accident caused by some overzealous photographer – so anyone who tracks me down that way usually doesn’t get very far. Got a house as far from the ocean as I could find and still be in the city, but it’s got enough room that when Herc and Chuck come over, I don’t have to share a bed or a bathroom.” He was proud of that little house, of every decision he’d made to furnish it. It had felt like restoring pieces of normal, even as a part of him wished he were in a jaeger, fighting alongside his brother.

“Do you have people asking you stupid questions about being a jaeger pilot?” Mako wondered.

Scott barked a laugh. “Every week at least. What made you pick Gipsy Danger to restore and not a newer jaeger?”

“It had to do with which jaegers were in the best shape for both restoration and improvements, given the budget I had to work with,” Mako said. “When I started the project, some of the newer jaegers were still in service. We did not have the funding to restore all of them.”

Scott leaned back, satisfied. “Wondered if that was the case.” He finished eating a few minutes later as Mako did the same. “So I take it I need an escort if I go anywhere?”

Mako shook her head. “Just don’t go to K-science or the jaeger bays and you’ll be fine.”

“In that case, I want to check on my nephew before I get some shuteye,” Scott said. “Raleigh, thanks for that call.”

Raleigh acknowledged that with a grin and a nod, since he was still chewing his food. He swallowed and said, “You’re welcome.”

* * *

“You don’t have to do this,” Herc said the following morning over breakfast.

Scott looked at him. “No, but if you think you’re going to order me to leave, you’ll have to hoist me onto the plane yourself.”

Herc closed his eyes briefly. “Who told you?”

“Raleigh,” Scott replied. “Probably got Tendo to give him my number.” He studied his brother. “Why does that bother you?”

“Because you don’t deserve to be caught up in this bullshit.”

“And some other helpless chump who’s not family does?” Scott shot back angrily, annoyed. “Jesus, Herc, I get that you’re grieving over everyone who died in the past week, but you’re being fucking unreasonable. Who crawled up your ass this morning? Because it wasn’t me.”

Herc stared at him before shuddering. “I don’t know how Stacker put up with this shit from the UN and all the governments and the media. It’s like they’ve all decided that since the Breach is closed, we’re just going to either go away or become part of their military machine, and there’s a ton of email in my inbox and calls and –“

Scott’s eyes widened, shocked at his brother’s verbosity, which was a bad sign. Herc had to be deeply rattled to be talking that much. Stress was something Herc handled well, given how he’d been running at full tilt for years, but anything involving his son tended to throw a monkey wrench into that wall of control. Piloting with Chuck had only cemented Herc’s conviction that he was either the worst father ever or the luckiest. Seeing his son hurt in a way he couldn’t fix on top of not having been in the conn-pod was clearly fucking with Herc’s sense of order. Bitching about the work he could possibly control was only a symptom of Herc’s deep-rooted distress.

Scott moved to hug his brother reassuringly. “Hey. That’s why I’m here, yeah? So you can go tell all those suits and ties to fuck off for a few days and let us grieve all who died before making any permanent decisions. The Rangers all had wills, so delegate someone to take care of handling that. You need to heal, bro, and stress isn’t helping. And if you want someone to tell the media they’re being assholes, I’d be happy to. Won’t be the first or last time, yeah?”

That drew a reluctant laugh out of Herc. “Yeah. Still can’t believe you said it.”

“Someone had to,” Scott replied. “They didn’t know we weren’t allowed to step ashore to go after a kaiju because we had to get fucking authorization. And asking me if I agreed the Wall was a better solution was just asking for it.”

Herc let himself be comforted a moment before taking a deep breath. “Sorry, Scott. Just…feel like I’m dumping on you.”

Scott made a scoffing sound. “Aren’t you the one who said we Hansens had to stick together?”

Herc laughed reluctantly. “Yeah, I did.”

“So go and kick some sense into whoever needs it, and I’ll keep watch on Chuck.”

Looking more reassured and confident, Herc rose to his feet. “Thanks, Scott.”

Over the next three days, Scott settled into a routine. He would meet his brother for breakfast, then spend the hours until lunch reading to Chuck. Scott skipped lunch in favor of running around the Shatterdome. He’d then shower, change, and find his brother trying to sit vigil with Chuck while still running the PPDC, so he’d have to (after about an hour or so) chase Herc out (‘if you’re going to work, go find your office’) and spend the afternoon with Chuck. Sometimes, Raleigh, Mako, or Tendo would come by and chat with Herc and Scott or just Scott, depending on how successful Scott had been at getting his brother to leave Chuck’s bedside. Scott appreciated that the others were not holding to some stiff demarcation of rank and formality, though he noted that the other staffers who were not as close as Raleigh, Mako, and Tendo kept to it.

“Why?” Scott asked Raleigh. “You don’t have to keep visiting.”

“No, but I’d feel weird if I didn’t,” Raleigh countered. “Besides, we wouldn’t be here if Chuck and Stacker didn’t clear a path for us.” He shrugged. “If you would rather I stayed away…?”

“No,” Scott said hastily, suspecting that Raleigh had more reasons than just gratitude. “I just was curious. Chuck tends to push everyone away unless he really likes them.”

Raleigh suddenly couldn’t hold Scott’s gaze as he chuckled ruefully. “Yeah, I kinda got that message.”

On the afternoon of the fourth day, a meeting had pulled Herc away, so Scott was alone with his nephew when Chuck started to stir.

“Easy, kid,” Scott cautioned. “You’re safe.”

“Wha-what?” Chuck licked his lips.

Scott quickly moved to raise the bed so Chuck could sit up more easily. “That’s it, Chuck, wakey-wakey.”

Chuck blinked and slanted a look at him. “Uncle,” he rasped.

Grinning, hearing the annoyance and confusion in the single word, Scott hit the nurse call button. “Hi, kid. You scared your dad big time.” He reached for the pitcher of water on the nightstand near the bed and poured Chuck a glass. “Sip this, then talk. Breach is closed, if that’s what you’re wondering. Raleigh had to manually blow up his girl to do it.”

“He’s alive?”

Scott nodded. “So is Mako.”

“Figured he’d save her,” Chuck rasped. “What are you doing here?”

“Herc wasn’t getting enough rest,” Scott said easily as the doctor came in. The doctor checking over Chuck consumed the next several minutes.

“Well, it looks like what we’d suspected,” the doctor pronounced. “Your brain just needed some time to disconnect from the Drift and heal from being bounced around a bit. I’m going to keep you here for the next day, just to make sure you’re not feeling any symptoms, but you usually heal very quickly and well, so I don’t expect any problems.”

“Doc Yuen, can’t I just stay in my quarters?” Chuck pleaded.

“No, because you also have a habit of wanting to do very physical things,” Dr. Yuen said with a smile. “Another day of bed rest will make sure you don’t try to be Superman like you’ve always tried to do. Besides, I want to be sure you aren’t having any odd Drift side effects, and it’s easier to get you to tell me if my nurses have been monitoring you.”

Chuck pouted.

Scott hid a smile; he knew his nephew hated being monitored, since so much of his life was public record. “You’ll want it, trust me,” Scott told Chuck. “And it’s not people here don’t know what post-Drift grief looks like.”

That made Chuck freeze. “I…how am I going to talk to Mako?”

“With a little more respect, I hope,” Herc said dryly as he stepped into the room. The doctor took the cue to leave.

It was the right tone, and Scott saw instantly that it made Chuck swallow hard and close his eyes. Chuck never liked to cry, he knew, drawing on the tough-guy image that Herc projected. “Which isn’t to say that you can’t cry, Chuck. We lost a good guy,” Scott hastened to say. “I’m sure Mako will understand whatever you try to tell her, especially since she piloted, too.”

Chuck blinked back tears. “He said he wanted to die in a jaeger, not in a hospital bed. I…you said he was in remission.”

“Up until right before Mutavore,” Herc said, his voice heavy with knowledge. “He’d been warned that stress might trigger his cancer.”

Chuck bit his lip and drew in a breath before letting it out slowly. “Can you get me out of here early, Dad? You’re the marshal now.”

Herc barked a laugh. “Yes, but I’m not going to abuse my position anymore than I already have. You’re staying put until the doctor releases you.”

Chuck pouted. “Fine, then I want –”

Herc leveled a look at him. “Max is not allowed in the clinic.”

“– you to get Scott out of here,” Chuck finished as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “I’m not going to die on you, I swear. I just need a few minutes alone.”

Herc eyed his son a moment. “I’ll let the others know you’re awake.” He gripped Chuck’s good hand briefly before pointedly putting the box of tissues within Chuck’s reach. “I miss Stacker, too, but I’m glad he didn’t think you needed to die with him.”

Chuck’s breath caught and tears welled in his eyes. Taking it for a cue, Scott rose. “C’mon, bro, I’m sure you’ve been ignoring doctor’s orders. Let’s go see if you’ve banged up that shoulder more, yeah?”

Herc willingly picked up that argument and let Scott steer him out of the room. Once in the hallway, Herc looked at Scott. “Got myself checked out this morning; I’m fine. Going to be another month or so for me to heal, then physical therapy. Hang on a moment and we’ll go somewhere we can talk.” He sighed and pulled his phone out. “Hey, Tendo, can you let everyone know Chuck has awakened from his coma, is his usual self, and tell Victor he can send the press release out saying Chuck’s survived?”

“You got it, sir,” Tendo said, and Herc hung up, tucking his phone in his pocket as he started moving through the hallway, Scott following. A moment later, they heard the station-wide intercom open. “Attention in the Shatterdome: Ranger Chuck Hansen is awake, alive, and recovering in Medical. As a reminder, please direct all press to Victor Khaleda in Public Relations.”

Herc looked at his brother. “I’ve got an hour, max, before Victor wants me to deal with press requests.”

“Long enough to drink a shot in celebration,” Scott said. “Or two.”

Herc shook his head as they continued to walk to his quarters. “You are not getting me drunk before I might have to go on TV. Not again.”

“Hey, how was I supposed to know we couldn’t handle vodka?” Scott asked, remembering that incident. They had been scheduled to appear on a popular TV talk show, but had shown up still drunk. The Sydney Shatterdome’s marshal and the head of PPDC public relations had lectured them on ‘role models’ and ‘responsibility to the public.’

“Because you never remember that gin and vodka aren’t the same thing?” Herc said.

“Oh, right,” Scott shot back. “Because I was supposed to know what the hell were in those damn cocktails our crew chief was mixing for us to celebrate your birthday. You gonna hold that over my head for the rest of my life?”

Herc shrugged as best as he could, wincing at the motion. “Thought that was the prerogative of an older brother.”

Scott flipped him off. “Is this what I get for dropping everything, coming to see you, and making sure you get some rest while Chuck crawled out of a dead-man’s Drift?”

“What were you expecting?” Herc replied, a grin tugging at his lips. “Kisses and hugs? You’re not twelve.”

“No, but if you don’t have a bottle of good whiskey in your quarters – not that rotgut Chinese swill I’m sure someone gave you – I will kiss you in public,” Scott threatened. The threat was an old one, never filled to date, and Scott knew it was unlikely to ever be outside of some freak accident. Still, it was a measure of how well he knew his brother that it constituted one.

Herc opened the door to his quarters, Scott trailing. “As if I’d give you that pleasure.” He pulled open a desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of Sullivan’s Cove. “Good enough?” From the same drawer, he pulled out two shot glasses and poured the Australian whiskey into the glasses.

Scott grinned. “Good enough,” he drawled, and took one of the glasses. “To Chuck,” he toasted, and clinked his glass against Herc’s.

Both men downed the shots in unison. Herc swallowed and sagged visibly. “I thought he was dead, Scott,” he said heavily as he sat down on the bunk.

Scott let out a breath and set his shot glass down on the desk before taking Herc’s out of his hand and doing the same. Pulling the desk chair over, he sat down and faced his brother. “You told him you loved him before the drop, yeah?”

“He said he knew all the things I didn’t have to say, that he didn’t need me to say them aloud.” Herc looked at Scott. “When did he grow up?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” Scott asked, and Herc shook his head. Both were aware that the day they’d rescued Chuck was the day he’d started on that grownup path; getting into a jaeger at sixteen had only served to finish it. “Question is: are you two ready for the PT and all the shit that comes with it?”

“No,” Herc said honestly. “And there isn’t anyone here willing to referee, especially since I think Raleigh and Chuck might’ve hooked up before that last mission.”

Scott studied his brother. “You don’t approve of Chuck and Raleigh?”

“Depends on whether it was a ‘world is ending, let’s fuck’ or the start of something more. I don’t think either of them are in a good place to start anything.”

“Says the man who got married at eighteen two days before shipping out to basic,” Scott teased him, aware that Herc worried more because of his experience. “I’m sure they’ll figure it out. Raleigh doesn’t look like he’ll put up with Chuck’s shit for long, and you know that Chuck won’t let anything get in the way of his work if he can help it. Maybe that’s a good thing, maybe it’s a bad thing, I don’t know, but I also know you don’t like being a stickybeak, either.”

Herc looked at him ruefully. “Aren’t I supposed to be now that I’m their marshal?”

“To a degree, sure, but you’ve let Chuck be an adult since he was sixteen, and he’s never going to let you forget that.”

“When did you get to be the voice of reason?”

“When I had to quit worrying about every damn moment so I wasn’t living life in a fog of drugs,” Scott returned bluntly. “And you like me better for it, even if I’m a year younger than you.”

Herc looked at his hands. “He hates PT, and I hate PT, and we’re both going to probably try to get the therapists to quit rather than push us.”

“And how is this different from the last time the both of you broke bones?” Scott countered. He knew this was just Herc venting, worrying about the things he could anticipate, but it was still frustrating to hear. “Look, I’ll stick around and play referee if that’s what you’re worried about, but if I’m going to be around, I can’t just sit on my ass. Let me help Mako with those jaegers you’re rebuilding – and don’t try and tell me you didn’t immediately start pulling strings to get back the last two jaegers that were killed by kaiju before Mutavore – and I’ll play referee between you and Chuck. Or anyone else that needs someone other than the two of you to ask if you’re crazy or just being you.”

Herc closed his eyes briefly. “Talk to Mako and see what help she needs. We’ll figure out the paperwork after that.” He rose and hugged Scott as tightly as he could with one arm. “Thanks.”

Scott grinned. “Buy me a steak dinner when you’re both done with PT and can move like normal people again, and I’ll consider it even.”

“Agreed.”

Scott knew he was in for some very heated arguments, likely a few fights, and probably more than a few ruffled feathers before they were done. He wouldn’t have his family any other way.

_The End_


End file.
